Memories Unwind
by Mellon Collie
Summary: Bad language! Complete re done sequel to Perfect Potter. Draco has a whole new existence in Canada until someone finds him there. Now he must go back to England and return to exactly what he left behind -- a whole lot of pain.


**An**: New version. Erm...I'll be honest...my passion for Harry Potter is waning. I still love it, but it has been so very bloody long since a new book was published, and I've really run out of material to base my stuff on. A lot of people have. So here is a last stab at trying to shock awake the connection that is dying with these characters. Don't be mistaken; I will still write this story with as much fervor as Perfect Potter, but realize it may take a little bit (a week or two) between chapters. XD Review please! Thanks -_-; 

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    "Hey, really, everyone," Rachel Miller called, holding up her glass for silence. 

    "The group whore speaks! Quiet everyone!" Michael said in mocking reverence, looping his arm around Draco Malfoy. 

    "Oh, you're just jealous because I never slept with you." 

    "Which is why he's gay!" Draco said. Michael punched his arm. 

    "Shut up. You never slept with her," he said. 

    Rachel caught Draco's eye and ran her tongue over her lip seductively. "Ye of little faith, eh?" 

    Draco winked at her, and Michael covered his eyes. "Virgin eyes!" 

    "If his eyes are virginal, we're all fucked!" 

    "Did someone say fuck?" 

    "Speech!" Draco said, pulling Michael's hand from his eyes. Rachel held up her glass again after taking another drink. 

    "To Draco, on his birthday. May he always know we all did him for his accent. Heaven knows it wasn't for his looks." 

    "I'm sexier than you are," replied Draco, grinning. 

    "I'll drink to that!" Michael yelped, clinking glasses with Rachel. 

    "Seriously, though," Rachel said after drinking to Draco's sexiness. "Draco, you're one of my dearest, queerest friends, and I wouldn't have it any other way. Love you. Happy twenty-ninth." 

    "Hear, hear!" Michael said, Draco blushed, tapped glasses with everyone crowded at the table. 

    "It may be the alcohol talking," Michelle Walker said, turning her head and resting her chin on Draco's shoulder, "But that guy who just walked in is super, super sexy." 

    Michelle's boyfriend Tony turned. He wrinkled his nose. "You can't see his face. But you always felt knowing the person was such a formality, right?" 

    "What was your name again?" Michelle said, climbing onto his lap. Draco turned to glance at the man who had just stepped in. He was wearing a long, gray trench coat, and had a snow hat pulled on down to just above his eyes. He was glancing around the bar, and the smoke obscured most of his face. Finally, he walked over to the bar and leaned over to talk to Jim, the bar keeper. 

    "You're checking out his ass, aren't you?" Michael said playfully, kissing Draco's cheek. 

    "You know your ass the only ass in this room to me." 

    "I have a nice ass!" Rachel called out suddenly. 

    "Whatever helps you sleep at night," Draco said. 

    "Speak dirty Brit to me," she said, leaning across the table. 

    "I want to throw you down on this table and ravage you," Draco said, jokingly seductive, stressing his accent that was, after just a year short of living for a decade in Canada, beginning to fade. The table exploded with laughter as Michael pulled Draco back and kissed him. 

    "Hey, Mr. Birthday Boy," Jim said, rapping sharply on Draco's head. 

    "Come on and join us, Jimmy Jim Jim Jim Jimmy Jim Jim," Tony offered. Jim smiled. 

    "Not for all the alcohol in Nova Scotia. The guy at the bar needs to speak to you, Mr. Malfoy. He's got an accent." 

    "So he's hot and has an accent?" Michelle said. "Is he gay?" 

    "Tony's got competition!" Michael said. Draco smiled and crawled over Michael to get out of the booth. 

    "I'll let you all know if my gay-dar goes off. I bet he's one of those legions of adoring fans I left behind in England that I am sure I've told you all about." 

    "Keep dreaming, Draco Malfoy, keep dreaming." 

    Draco grinned and walked up to the bar. The man approached him and looked up at him. "Can I help you?" Draco asked before really looking at the man's eyes. The dim, smoky bar light caught the intense emerald sharply, and as he pulled of the hat, revealing messy black hair and the tell-tale paper thin scar marring the perfect skin, Draco stumbled backwards. 

    "Harry?" he gasped. His whole birthday brigade was watching now, the girls leaning over the guys to catch good looks at the man Draco was staring at in wonder. 

    It dawned on Tony first. "That's Harry Potter?" he said, swiveling around in his seat to stare. 

    "No!" Rachel exclaimed. "That can't be the Harry Potter. No way. What is he doing in Canada?" 

    "Your reputation has traveled all the way to England. I'm so proud," Todd Sterling said, wiping away an imaginary tear. 

    Michael swallowed as he watched Harry cock his head to the side. His voice was too low to hear, and Draco wasn't saying much beyond his first shout of surprise. 

    "Hello, Draco," Harry said. Draco was still staring at him. "Happy Birthday." He pulled from his coat a small, wrapped box. Draco took it but continued to peer into his face. 

    "It's really you, isn't it?" Draco said. 

    "I hope it is. Either that, or I have to go back to England to get myself," joked Harry. 

    "You're not wearing glasses." 

    "Kept getting broken by bludgers." 

    "You're not giving me a hug? What's wrong with you?" Harry smiled and hugged him. "It's great to see you again," Draco said quietly in Harry's ear. 

    "Sorry I didn't write. I've gotten a fetish for surprises in my old age. Hope you do, too." 

    "I'm not that old," Draco said pulling back and smiling softly. "You certainly aren't. You haven't changed a bit." In a slip of boldness, Draco reached out and touched a stray hair on Harry's forehead. 

    It proved to be too much for Michael, who pulled himself out of the booth and came up behind Draco. Draco turned and noticed him. "Oh, Christ, where are my manners? Harry, this is Michael. Michael, this is Harry." 

    "I know who you are," Michael said cheerfully as Harry shook his hand. Instantly, he could see why Draco still had some pictures from his life in England buried in the bottom of a trunk of school things. Harry had a charismatic charm about him, and he seemed to see straight into your heart with his eyes. 

    Michael instantly hated him. He looped an arm around Draco's waist smugly. It seemed to not even touch Harry, and Michael couldn't tell of it was because Harry was no longer attracted to Draco or because Harry knew it would take nothing to easily steal Draco. 

    "Come on, come meet my friends," Draco said, his smile broad as he led Harry over to the table. "Everyone, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is Rachel, Todd, Michelle, Tony, Amy, and Randall." Harry shook each other their hands, giving each person one of the smiles that won over anyone, and his polite hellos and nice to meet yous with the prim British accent melted each girl. 

    Michael seethed. 

    "Wow, Harry, I've heard so much about you," Rachel said, gazing up at him and making sure her body was in full view. Harry nodded at Draco and grinned. 

    "Anything he says isn't true. He was always jealous of me and my good looks." 

    "Shut up, you bastard." 

    "Your accent sucks, you know that, right?" 

    "I try, I try." 

    "And, in true Malfoy fashion, fail miserably." 

    "So," Michael said loudly, cutting off the banter before he was forced to throttle Harry, "What brings you to Canada, Potter?" 

    "Well, I--" 

    "Sit down and take a load off your feet!" Rachel exclaimed, pulling on his coat and bringing him down, half on the seat, half on her lap. He blinked. 

    "Erm, okay," he said, adjusting his place and putting his hand in his pocket while he tried in futile effort to fix his hair with his free hand. "I just needed to tie up some loose ends with Draco, and when I went to his house he'd taped a note to his door that said to come looking for him here." He glanced at Draco, a bit preoccupied since Rachel had begun to play with his hair. "All that time you got on my arse for being indiscreet, and you leave a note on your door." 

    "They're very friendly in Canada," replied Draco. 

    "I can tell," Harry said, flicking his eyes to Rachel. 

    "You just have to let me show you the sights!" Michelle said, reaching out to touch his hand. 

    "Well, I don't think Mr. Potter really planned on staying..." Michael said, but was drowned out by Todd yelping. 

    "This is CANADA. What "sights" are you going to show him? The snow?" He began to jokingly point at invisible things. "That is one hell of a snow mound. Whoo…look…so…white…" 

    "Yeah, how long are you planning on staying?" Amy asked, elbowing Todd. Harry glanced at the whole group leaning in on him, and glanced at his watch that Draco noticed was the one he had given him years and years ago. 

    "However long it takes to tie up said loose ends," Harry said, but he ducked his head and flicked his eyes to Draco, who knew it meant Harry was lying through his teeth. 

    "How long do you think it takes to tie up loose ends? Two, three weeks?" Michelle said, smiling seductively at Harry. 

    "Michelle, never do bondage. You have to tie things snappily." 

    "Velcro is a girl's best friend." 

    "Virgin ears!" Draco cried suddenly, slamming his hands over Michael's ears. It was one of their many inside jokes, and Michael took a sadistic pleasure in the bemused look on Harry's face. 

    "So how are Hermione and Ron and everyone?" Draco asked, tickling Michael's ears. 

    "Hermione and Seamus got married." Harry said. Draco blinked. 

    "Wow...did not see that one coming." 

    "And Ginny and Neville, but they've been pretty much married since her third year. And Sirius got married." 

    "Really? Whose the lucky lady?" 

    "Some woman at the London Penitentiary prom." Harry and Draco laughed, and Michael realized that Harry had one up on him--an involved past. "No, actually this really nice woman named Aurora." 

    "And Dumbledore?" 

    "You know, the usual," which, in Harry-Draco speak, meant something was up. The purpose of Harry's visit suddenly became startingly real. 

    The bartender came over to take Harry's drink order. "Oh, I don't want to impose..." 

    "You, impose?" Rachel cooed. "Never. Drink on me." 

    "Rachel, would you buy me a drink?" Todd asked. Rachel casually flipped him off, and beamed at Harry. 

    "What'll you have?" Jim asked Harry. 

    "I'll pay for it. What is the best drink here?" Those at the table, all seasoned drinkers, shouted out suggestions, and Harry smiled at Rachel. "She can pick it for me." 

    Rachel gave the order, then Draco stood. "Harry, can I speak to you alone?" Michael frowned. 

    "Drac, you two can talk later. It's your birthday." 

    "I just need to ask him something," Draco said, Harry followed Draco to the back of the bar. "What's going on?" Draco demanded. Harry bowed his head, and Draco felt a headache coming on. "This is a cordial, social or business meeting, and we don't have any loose ends to tie up." 

    "None that we saw hanging, at least." Harry glanced at the table. "Not here. If looks could kill, your boyfriend would have slaughtered me a little bit ago. Later tonight, okay?" 

    "This isn't going to be a joyful skip down memory lane, is it?" 

    "More like a horrendous trudge." Harry reached up and brushed Draco's cheek with his fingertips. "But you're lucky. You won't have to make it alone." 

    "I've been making it alone for a very, very long time now," Draco said, his voice tinged with just the slightest bitterness. Harry nodded, and dropped his hand. 

    They walked back to the table, where Rachel sighed forlornly. 

    "You're gay, aren't you?" she said, her voice melancholy. 

    "No, he's bi. Single, and bi," Draco said, grinning mischievously as he sat on Michael's lap. 

    "In that case..." Rachel said happily, and pulled Harry onto her own lap again. 

    Even Michael, with all his jealousy and wariness, was drawn to Harry. Where Draco had dark mysteriousness to him, Harry had cheerful openess. Draco's cunning features were morbidly attractive, while Harry's gentle laugh and friendly smile drew the listener in. It also helped that his accent was refined and pleasant, adding a certain sophisticated feel to everything he said. 

    Each movement and action of Harry's brought forth memories. When he sipped from the drink Rachel had ordered, Draco recalled the time when both he and Harry had been grieving over the deaths of both their parents and had gotten drunk in the Astronomy Tower. When Harry laughed at a story Amy told him, Draco remembered the time he and Harry had almost been caught making out in Harry's dorm, and Draco had intentionally tickled Harry as he tried to talk to Seamus and Ron without revealing that Draco was beneath the covers. 

    While Draco's friends relaxed in Harry's easy going demeanor, Draco felt worry building in his stomach. It was Harry's very easiness that piqued Draco's stress. He had heard that laugh too many times to not know that it masked grief, and had seen that smile too many time to not know it meant Harry had spent too long frowning. 

    Try as he might, Draco couldn't fully enjoy his birthday celebration, and was more than a little relieved when the bar closed down. The band of partiers went outside, and each person wished Draco a happy birthday, despite it being three in the morning, and apparated. 

    Michael wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him from Harry. "Want me to come home and you can unwrap your real present?" He kissed Draco. Draco smiled at the man he knew he was meant to marry. 

    "I'm too tired to unwrap anything tonight. Come over in the morning and I'll show you what birthday celebrations are all about." 

    Michael hid his hurt and bit his lip, then kissed Draco again. He cast Harry a resentful look then apparated. Draco watched the spot where he had disappeared, then turned to Harry. 

    "Okay, let's get this over with," he said dejectedly. They began to walk back to Draco's house. "What is going on?" 

    Harry answered by pulling out a handful of photographs. They were of an elegant room, with full vibrant reds and deep golds. But shattering the picture and smeared on the walls was a deeper, dark red. The people in the picture moved around slowly, writing things down on notebooks with stern faces. 

    "That is...or at least was my bedroom," Harry said. "I woke up a couple nights ago bound and gagged, with blood all over my walls." 

    "Whose blood?" 

    "Hedwig's." Harry turned away and rubbed his forehead. 

    "Ah, shit, Harry," Draco said, touching Harry's shoulder. 

    "It makes absolutely no sense to me at all--why kill my owl, but not me? And, though I don't have the picture, over my bed was scrawled 'The Dark Lord is Back'." 

    It took Draco a moment to recover, because he now knew exactly what Harry had come for. "Do you really...really think Voldemort is back?" 

    "How could he be?" Harry said, his voice tired and frustrated, as though he had repeated the sentence many times in an effort to convince someone…or himself. "You saw him die. We both did. We were there." 

    "We saw you cast an Avada Kedvra spell. We saw him hit the ground. We didn't see what happened to his body." 

    Harry sputtered. "Dumbledore himself said he was dead." 

    Draco bit his lip, ducked his head, and said the one thing that had always been in the back of his head. "Are you positive you can trust Dumbledore?" 

    Within a second, Harry had Draco pinned to the wall. "Do not doubt Dumbledore." 

    "I know it must be difficult to actually mistrust someone, Harry, but it is possible that Dumbledore may have had a misjudgement, a falteration, a mistake? He was old and under a lot of pressure at the time. We can't really base everything in our lives on HIS word." 

    "Did living in Canada for a little while turn you into a complete cynic? You once trusted Dumbledore." 

    "Correction number one. I trusted you, unfailingly, therefore by trusting you I trusted your trust in him." Harry cocked an eyebrow at him. "Chew on it for a second while you allow the feeling to return to my extremities." Harry released Draco. 

    There was quiet as Harry rubbed his chin and Draco pored over the photographs. "Is that why you left England?" Harry asked quietly. "Because you didn't trust us?" 

    Sarcastically, Draco tapped his chin and said coldly, "Maybe. Oh, no, wait, I do believe it may have been the severe emotional trauma. That was a factor." 

    "Ron, Hermione, and I went through the same thing, and we didn't leave England." 

    "I left England because you had each other, while I had nothing." He handed the photos back to Harry. "I'm sorry about your bird, Harry, but as you see, I have a life here. I have a job, a boyfriend, friends, a whole existence where I can go through an entire day without thinking about you, or Hogwarts, or Voldemort, or death. I get to wallow in happiness, for once in my life, as opposed to wallowing in self pity or grief. You should try it." 

    Harry's fingers shook with rage as he tried to nonchalantly put the photographs in his pocket. "Sorry I came for help in a time when England and I are in dire need of it. I forgot you never did anything unless it directly benefited you." 

    He spun on his heel to leave, and Draco reached out and grabbed his arm harshly. "I never do things for people who will never appreciate it. We were seventeen, Harry, and we defeated a force that hadn't been defeated since its incarnation. We were a blend of people that shouldn't have bonded--a mudblood, a rich pure blood and the boy who lived--yet we came together perfectly." The words felt raw in his mouth. Years of anger had built to this point. "And what did they do to us? They crucified each and every one of us. They dug up everything they could on us, desperate for a reason to despise us. Never once were we properly thanked, though each one of us made huge sacrifices in order to save their asses." 

    Draco pushed Harry away. "As far as I am concerned, England can go to hell." 

    "You're just going to walk away?" Harry demanded. "This is your HOME we're talking about." 

    "NO!" Draco shouted into the night. "THIS is my home. This is my life. And you are not part of it anymore Harry. I will not go crawling back to you like I used to." He was grinding his teeth so hard his jaw ached. "And how do I know this isn't some desperate attempt to get Ron back? He'd dead, Harry. Gone. Toodles. Bye. Running back to me over a bird is not bringing anything or anyone back! Let it go!" 

    Like a stake driven through a vampire's heart, something in Harry's eyes died then. "Right," he said, trying to inject some conviction into his voice but succeeding in only a meek concession. For a moment, Draco entertained the idea that Harry may have had no place to turn to, and Draco had just killed his last chance at help. 

    He shook the thought from his mind. This was Harry Potter; thousands of women, and not a bad amount of men were at his disposal. Surely Draco couldn't be anyone's last resort anymore. "It was great seeing you again," Harry said dryly. 

    "Any time. Please; no need for hysterical tears," shot back Draco, and he stalked off. He gave up a night with Michael for this? A dead bird? 

    In his anger, Draco at first was oblivious to his surroundings. But as he walked towards his home, the smell of burning wood was wafting towards him, and soon engulfed his senses. He looked up and let out an expletive. 

    His entire home was enveloped by flames that leapt and lit the night sky with blazing ferocity. "Harry!" he called, beginning to race to the fire. Harry turned and saw Draco's dead run, and soon was beside him. They pulled out their wands as they ran and the moment they were in range began shooting large streams of water at the inferno. 

    It took ages, and when they were finished, both Draco and Harry were blackened with soot and covered in sweat. They collapsed against the stone garden wall, panting in exhaustion. The house was still standing, but just barely; Draco didn't dare go inside for fear it would collapse. 

    "That..." Harry began, gasping for breath and taking off his glasses to wipe his forehead, "was deliberate." 

    "Or you're paranoid," 

    Harry shook his head and pointed. Draco followed the finger and cursed again, dropping his wand. 

    Hovering over the house was a dull silhouette of the Dark Mark. Draco stared at it in disbelief as Harry continued. "I woke up, and it was over my house too." 

    "He can't be back. He just can't..." whispered Draco in panic. Harry let his head drop back, sighing, his breath trembling in worry and fear. 

    "Someone's back. And now they know where you live." He turned towards Draco and took his hand. "You have to help me, Draco. Everyone thinks I'm crazy, but I know there is someone out there..." He looked Draco straight in the eyes. "I can't do this without you." 

    Draco turned, a lump growing his throat. He thought he'd left this all behind so long ago. But as he looked at the remnants of his home, at the now fading Dark Mark, he swallowed, and nodded. 


End file.
